Badly Broken
by DeathOfABatchelor
Summary: This is based in the Suicide Squad universe, set after Harley is taken away by Batman.
1. Badly Broken

Disclaimer: This is based on the relationship portrayed in Suicide Squad, based on Jared Leto's Joker.

Badly Broken

In the VIP booth he sat, mouth open, breathing deeply. The man sitting in front him didn't matter. All that mattered was her. He watched the stripper in the glass cage, she wasn't there. Her bleached body wasn't there. It wasn't dancing. She wasn't making the crowd go wild. He looked back to the man, no longer interested in the business deal they were trying to make. He held up his customized pistol and put a bullet in between the man's eyes. He shot again and again, feeling nothing. There was no joy, no solace in the kill. He emptied his gun so quickly, but it didn't matter. His main henchman walked in, calling cleaning service.

In the past months since the Bat took her, Joker felt nothing. There was no joy in killing if it wasn't for her. No reason to laugh as she was not there to celebrate. He'd gone on many rampages, trying to ease his mind. How could she do this to him, destroy his already broken self in a way he couldn't mend? The Clown had gone even crazier, if that were possible, driving endlessly through crowds of people, looking for release. He needed her. He burned building after building, looking for some way to help himself. Nothing worked. He couldn't sleep, his mind burning with demons he couldn't fight. The demons he needed her to fight, because she could always win. She always did. He numbed what he could with Devil's Springs Vodka, and hoped to get some sleep, hoping on the third day his body would just shut down.

His smile was gone, faded from his face, he replaced it with lipstick. He'd drawn on the best smile he could, his face not able to do it alone. He would laugh, but only to hide his distraught sobs of grief. How could she ruin him like this? How did she do this to him? He tried to never let himself get attached, he tried to leave her and never go back. She was headstrong. Looking for him even after he threw her away. Chasing him down. Forcing him to accept her. He wouldn't accept Harleen. He needed Harley. He needed that persona, he couldn't look at Harleen, her doctor-self. She was weak. He needed the crazy inside. She was so close when he met her, halfway to her breaking point. The little doctor needed a push, to accept herself for who she was. He forced her there, and then left. He told himself it was a bad idea. All that time he was trying to break her, and she broke him. She made so he couldn't function without her.

In his private room, the room she wasn't allowed in, he sat in a circle of all his weapons. He didn't remember getting there. He remembered shooting up the club, then black nothingness. He clung to an old shirt, it was tainted with her sugary sweet scent, he needed her. The clothing didn't replace her, and he eventually got frustrated, ripping the shirt to shreds, throwing it away from himself, like he wished he had with her. He'd thought of killing her so many times, when her shenanigans went too far, when she'd angered him for what he thought of making the last time. Some part of him always let her go, never let him dig the knife deep enough, never let him pull the trigger while the gun was to her head. Now he knew why. He'd be left helpless without her. He'd be better off dead, with her, if he had ever done it. He knew that when he got her back he was never going to let her go. He was going to make her pay for the pain he'd caused her, but he would never let her leave him again. As his main henchman walked in, Joker held up a gun, threatening to shoot without saying a word.

"Boss, we found her."

That was it. That was all he needed. He dropped the gun. He let himself fall back as he laughed, his laughs turning to sobs. He'd said something, he wasn't even sure he was understandable. But his man left, and when he came back he knew it was time for a plan, some way to rescue her, and he would execute it, and anyone in his way, perfectly.

Authors Note: This is my first upload, and reviews would be much appreciated. Even if you really didn't like it.


	2. Second Guessing

Authors Note: I wasn't too sure about posting this one, it just didn't flow as well as the first chapter. I hope you enjoy, please review.

Second Guessing

 _He married me…_ A normal life flashed before her. Joker, two babies, a real house, happiness. _Normal…_ His green hair was brown, the color was gone from hers, their kids were _healthy._ They all were. He smiled because he was truly happy, her voices were gone, shut down by medication. He was getting ready for work, real work, a normal job. She was getting ready to take care of her babies.

She opened her eyes to the real world. _We don't get normal._ The chatter in her head was louder than ever. It made her head spin. She had been back in her cell for a while. At first, when she got back, she cried all the time, distraught about how she'd lost her Puddin'. She had nothing to distract her from the pain of her loss. He was everything to her. He made her.

Her mind often drifted to their time at Arkham, when they first met. How she'd fallen in love with him as Harleen, and how he'd done everything he could to kill that girl. Maybe after he'd left her to rot, she should've hated him. She just couldn't. As Harleen, Harley was in the back of her mind, making her wander to streets, searching for him. Her heart had ached so much then, in need of him to come and complete the transformation he started. Now all she needed was him to somehow be alive.

She curled up in a tight ball. She'd lost him. He was gone. He was never coming back, never coming to rescue her. She was stuck in a hole without the love of her life, with a fantasy of something that would never be possible.

As days went by, she cried and screamed, beat guards half to death when it was time for her tube feeding, and eventually decided she couldn't go on. She was no longer the Jokers queen. She was the sad and lonely Harley Quinn. She was back where she started, back before _He_ ever even existed to her. She would never be Harleen again, but she was so much like her again. Sad and alone, shutting herself away, forgetting who she was.

She ripped up her prison clothes and tied them to the top bars of her personal cage. She'd made a space to put her head through, but as she was climbing up to do it, guards burst in, grabbing her. She kicked someone in the head as two men struggled to pin her down.

"Let go of me!" She shouted angrily. She pulled her arm away and smashed her elbow into the guard's face, who then fell back, grabbing his nose. The other guard grabbed her fist as it came to her face. She felt a prick, and her eyes grew heavy. They'd sedated her.

When she woke there was a book sitting on the ground near her bed. She was still too out of it, her conscious trying to fade away again. She was too small for the doses they gave her. It really did a number on her body. As she tried to make out what the title of the book was, everything started fading, and her mind slipped back into darkness.

Days later, she'd started to feel better. She was sipping espresso and reading, which was a nice distraction from her breaking heart. She put her book down and got up for a refill. She listened to the espresso machine and watched the liquid pour out. A loud explosion made her jump, a small scream escaping her lips. A guard was using a power saw to get in her cage, she stood back in the corner, frightened. When he opened the door, another guard walked through and lifted his mask. At first, Harley couldn't believe her eyes, and she thought maybe she was still asleep, that the sedative hadn't worn off. He walked towards her, his eyes dark and hungry. His suit read "JOKER".

"Puddin'!" Maybe it really was him, maybe he hadn't died after all. She decided she didn't care, her heart stopped aching, and instead pounded in excitement at the sight of her love, her one and only Joker.


	3. Home

Home

Her skin was pale, white like ice. Her hair so blonde it almost matched. She was bleached, unnatural, but in every way beautiful. Her blue eyes were warm and inviting, her red painted lips curving into a smile, further reeling them in. Her hair wasn't in its normal pigtails, instead left to fall onto her mid back, the tips dyed blue and pink. Her dress fell to her mid-thighs, not that it mattered while she was dancing.

She was back in her glass cage, twirling around and grinding on other dancers, lifting her dress to reveal her lacy thong underneath, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Her aim, as always, was just to get Joker riled up, and from what she could tell, it was working. He sat in his VIP booth, watching, breathing in through his mouth. He was meeting with someone, though from the angle, she couldn't tell who. All of her watches that she'd collected from killing Jokers failed underground partners were around her arm.

She was home. She hadn't felt this alive since… she couldn't remember when. At the end of the night, she was back home with Joker. She'd been home for a month and already they were back into their normal routine, _club, sex, sleep,_ somewhere in there was scheming to get back at Batsy, and in other places they managed to squeeze in fights. She didn't know which part she missed more, playing games, ruining plans, fighting, dancing, sex, it all tangled into one blurry yet exciting memory. The feeling so great she couldn't help but smile from ear to ear and laugh till she had no breath.

Joker had missed her crazy antics, while they ruined business deals and made him go madder than before, he was glad she was back. He didn't know what to call it, the feeling he got knowing she was there. Before, everywhere he looked he could see her, running away, begging for him to chase her, but he could never catch up, never catch _her._ Now he could, he could turn and see her, and if she ran, or teased, or screamed, he could reach out and grab her. It left a warm feeling in his heart, something he hadn't felt in a long while. He would never admit it, he would never say it, but he knew what it was, even if the word was gone from his memory.

She knew it too, she could see it in the way he watched her, the way he held her so close even when all he wanted to do was kill her. She knew what she meant to him, and whether he knew it or not, she knew it made him stronger. Gotham's King and Queen were together again, and nothing would ever pull them apart.


End file.
